Last week, things looked so promising for Jeff Byers. After transferring back to the rehab center, Jeff showed improved signs of consciousness. He made attempts at vocalization, so that many of us began a game to guess what his first words might be: “I love you, Carita”, then “I want a beer”? But early Friday morning things changed. Jeff went into cardiac arrest – exact cause unknown. He was resuscitated and rushed to an intensive care unit. By Sunday morning his organs began to fail. Around 10pm last night he died quietly, surrounded by family and friends.
Jeff was an incredible person. He was more thoughtful and compassionate than anyone I know. He could also whip up a bout of righteous indignation when he saw a wrong; he put his philosophies into action. He loved his wife dearly. He was smart – oh my goodness was he smart. He taught me so many things because he learned so many things – he was always learning and teaching. Mark Mason, another friend who met Jeff through work, may have said it best: “It’s hard to describe how much Jeff is liked, admired and respected. He stands out as very special in an industry already full of nice people and mental giants.”
I have loved Jeff for a long time, and I will continue to love him. Now I will also miss him.
I’ve been spending much of the morning and yesterday thinking of what Jeff has meant to me. The phrase that keeps comeing to mind is: "Jeff was as broad as the ocean and deep as the sea." The world will remember Jeff for his scientific achievements – that is understandable. But we, his friends, will remember him equally (and in my case, more so) for his friendship and other qualities.
I came to his house to help him build things but it was really an excuse just to spend time with him. We discussed poetry and books. We debated the question of when life actually starts and when taking a life is justified and when it is not. We drank beer together while I listed to his ideas on intellegent design. Once – and only once – I learned something that Jeff didn’t know (and he said I was wrong) – so I razzed him about it once in a while and he took it with good humor. I often thought "If I’m ever in deep trouble – not "short of 50 bucks" trouble, but "at the end of my rope" trouble – Jeff would be the first person I’d call". Jeff gave freely of his time, his stuff and his energy. He took less than he gave. He was one of those people that was not the least bit interested in impressing you. He listened. If you can believe it, he was even smarter than you thought he was. He had wonderful endearing quirks like the coffee cup he never washed. He was a complex man that lived in simplicity, dwelling in a house that he and his wife built with their own hands. He cared – it seemed about everything and everyone.
One could write a book or make a movie – but it would never really capture Jeff. He was truly one of a kind.
Thanks for putting "jefe" out there for others to read about. My uncle was a truly remarkable man. Was he ever!
To be so damn great, yet so humble. It still amazes me, remembering how he was always so interested in what we had to say. He loved the minds of children, I think, partly because he retained his understanding of them even as he grew older.
I’m going to miss him tremendously. Thanks for being a source of his happiness. I know he was happy, after all.
I am so sorry to hear of this outcome. My condolences to his family and his friends.
Chris, thank you for posting this sad news.